M.C. Beaton: Death of a Charming Man

“I could do that,” said Hamish wearily, “but for the fact that Betty Baxter received a mysterious phone call, got all excited, dressed up, hair done, and went out to her death.”

“Can’t you chust believe she fell? That’s what the police said.”

“No, I can’t believe that. But thanks for talking to me, Jock.”

Hamish returned to Edie’s, determined to take a break from his investigations and sort out his private life, but Edie told him that Priscilla had gone to Lochdubh and would be back late afternoon.

He walked off again, turning over in his mind what to say to Priscilla. Until she was prepared to let him get close, and that might never happen, it would be best to put an end to any thoughts of marriage. Also, he could change his life-style to please, her but he was shrewdly sure that once they were married and the first fine careless rapture was gone, he would begin to resent her bitterly for what she had done.

He felt sad and yet could not see any alternative. He found his steps were taking him towards Jimmy Macleod’s croft. Jimmy was moving sheep from one field to the other, his two collies running low, herding the beasts. Although he saw Hamish he did not raise his hand in greeting. Once the sheep were in the field, Jimmy shut the gate, whistled the dogs to heel and turned in the direction of the house. He would have walked past Hamish if Hamish had not stepped forward to block his path. “We have to talk, Jimmy,” said Hamish. “Can’t you leave us alone?” muttered Jimmy. “Look here, Jimmy, don’t you want to find out what your wife has been up to?”

“No, I chust want to get on with ma’ life. Leave us be.”

“All right, Jimmy, I’ll take the gloves off. Did it ever occur to you that there might have been something between your wife and Peter Hynd?”

Jimmy swung a blow at Hamish but Hamish caught his wrist and held it in a firm grip. “That won’t solve anything. Answer me, Jimmy.”

“You an’ yer dirty mind,” panted Jimmy. “Nancy wouldna’ hae done sich a thing. She iss a good woman.” Hamish held him tightly. “She is a woman who you hit and threatened.”

Jimmy began to sob, half in fury, half in a sort of despair, tears running down the wrinkles of his face.

The dogs growled softly, menacingly.

Hamish released him and stood back. “You’d feel better if you told me the truth Jimmy. You know where I am staying. Call on me any time you feel like talking.”

Jimmy scrubbed at his eyes with the rough sleeve of his jacket and then stood with his head hanging. Hamish sadly turned away. He was not like Blair and could not go on questioning anyone in such distress. He had a sudden feeling of revulsion for the whole business. Who was he, Hamish Macbeth, to go on like God Almighty? If someone had killed Peter Hynd, then good luck to them, he thought furiously. But someone who had killed and got away with it might kill again. And then what about poor, silly Betty Baxter?

He strode moodily in the direction of Edie’s, his mood as black as the loch. Priscilla’s car was drawn up outside Edie’s. He could hear the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. No doubt efficient Priscilla was getting a nourishing lunch ready.

He stood at the entrance to the kitchen door and watched her for a minute. She was wearing tailored trousers, a white cotton blouse and a cashmere cardigan. Her blonde hair was as bright as the sunlight and she was humming under her breath, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Where’s Edie?” he asked, moving forward. She swung round. “It’s just us,” she said. “Edie’s gone to Strathbane with Annie Duncan to pick up the costumes, so I thought I would use the kitchen.”

“Nice of you to cook lunch,” said Hamish moodily, sitting down at the table.

“I’m only heating it up. It’s lasagne. I got it from the restaurant in Lochdubh.”

She deftly mixed a bowl of salad and then put a portion of lasagne down in front of him. He realized he was hungry and decided to put off the inevitable confrontation. He talked about Jock and Harry as he ate. “Why don’t you just leave it all alone?” said Priscilla, echoing his earlier thoughts. “Look what a fool you will feel if Peter Hynd turns up alive and well. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. There is a danger that you yourself, Hamish, might stir the whole mess up again so much that murder will be done this time.”

She put a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Maybe,” he said sourly.

“I know this may be upsetting to you,” she said quickly.

He pushed his cup away. “The main thing right now, Priscilla, that iss upsetting me, is us…you and me.”

“Oh, Hamish, don’t let’s quarrel.”

“It’s past that. I thought that once we were married, you’d be more affectionate…warmer. But I don’t think anymore that will be the case. Oh, I think I could even put up with promotion and a move to Strathbane in return for love and affection. No,” he went on wearily, “I don’t want a row. I’m not getting at you. It’s not in you. So instead of me dragging on, hoping and hoping, I think we should drop the idea of marriage.”

“I’ve always had trouble with…with that side of things,” said Priscilla desperately. “Give me a little more time, just a little more time, Hamish.”

“No more time.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go up on the Drim with my rod. Perhaps it might be a good idea if you were gone by the time I got back this evening.”

He collected his rod and fishing basket from behind the door and strode off, half dreading, half hoping to hear the sound of her voice calling him back.

He fished steadily, trying to fight down a dragging, aching sense of loss, wondering how one’s brain should know all the sensible answers while one’s emotions longed for the unattainable. Night was falling early and frost was beginning to rime the grass when he decided to pack up. Perhaps because there was no young Heather with her pagan incantations, the fish refused to rise to the bait.

As he approached Edie’s, he noticed Priscilla’s car had gone. Well, it was what he had asked her to do, so why did he feel so bereft?

“Would you like a bite to eat?” asked Edie, over-bright and avoiding his eyes with a sort of awkward sympathy. “We’re just on our own. Priscilla’s left.”

“Yes, I know,” said Hamish heavily. “How did you get on in Strathbane?”

“We got the costumes all right,” said Edie. “They looked awfully dusty and tacky to me, and some of them have half the sequins missing, but Annie said they would look just grand under the lights. We’re trying them on this evening. Sit down and have something. It’s fish pie. I made it myself.” Hamish accepted a portion of fish pie. It was quite disgusting and the pastry tasted like wet paper. He cut it up and moved it around his plate in the hope that Edie might think he had eaten some of it.

“I’ll come to that rehearsal with you,” said Hamish, “just to make sure there aren’t any more accidents.”

Edie brightened. Priscilla had said she had to return to the hotel to work, but her face had shown signs of recent tears, and Hamish looked depressed. Correctly interpreting that the couple had had a row and that they had possibly broken up for good, Edie looked at Hamish with new eyes. He was an attractive man with his flaming red hair, hazel eyes, and shy smile. Of course he was younger than she, but still…And to Hamish’s embarrassment, Edie took his arm as they walked towards the community hall. She smelled strongly of cheap perfume and her thin body was pressed against his side. With relief, he detached himself from her to hold the hall door open for her and then stood back to let her enter on her own.

Then he found a seat at the back of the hall. Jock Kennedy was there, arranging the lights. There were a lot of muffled giggles and scuffles from the direction of the dressing-rooms where the women were trying on their costumes. He waited, forcing his mind to concentrate on all the aspects of the case. The hall began to fill up as the women who were not in the pantomime and the men of the village came to watch. Heather was there with her father, sitting beside him, holding his hand. Most of her schoolfellows were there but Heather did not exchange one word or glance with them. Her concentration was all on her father.